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def poetry jam

i loro capelli bei
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
per potere vedere ogni lato di ogni domanda
sono fevered
la notte era nera e drear
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
chi è il corridore nei cieli
esprimiamo le nostre passioni più basse

 



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